


will this night ever end?

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (kind of), Canon Era, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One simple thought plagues two minds, separated only by the countless rooms in the Schuyler Mansion: Will this night ever end?





	1. John Laurens

On the right, John Laurens stands with his band of Union renegades. There’s Lafayette, the lovable mystery of a Frenchman who is making an attempt to down his ale all at once. Most of it ends up soaking his shirt, but he’s laughing all the same. Up next, there’s Hercules Mulligan. Though always at the ready to fuck or sew, he’s the most level-headed of the group and has no problem being their glorified baby-sitter. Of course, there’s also the newly-wed man of the honor, Alexander Hamilton, who John cannot render to a simple sentence. Finally, John Laurens himself, who is stuck between the excitement he feels for his best friend and the break he feels in his heart for the one he’s titled his dearest - both emotions for the same man.

Only thirty minutes ago he was giving his speech as best man (Alexander hadn’t meant it to slight, he’d explained to John. He’d meant it as an act of trust) followed by the exuberant Angelica Schuyler (though as her “sisterly giving away” went on, John noticed she would become momentarily weary, but immediately came back as bright as she had been) and doing his damndest to keep composed as though he hasn’t a care in the world about who Alexander marries - though, he has to admit, Eliza is someone he’d’ve sent an application for if Alexander’s asking to find a wife wasn’t just cruel flirting.

Now, though, isn’t the time to play the cards of a jealous lover. It’s time to tease the Hell out of his newly-wed best friend. As he raises an expensive, brimming beer ( _my third?_ he asks himself), he nearly trips over his feet, though he has not moved ( _c_ _urse whoever left me with the genes of a lightweight)_. After a moment of tumbling he proclaims, “I may not live to see our glory!” The other three raise their glasses in unison. “But I’ve seen wonders great and _small_!” A snicker from Hercules on the emphasis of “small”. “‘Cause if the tomcat can get married!”

“If Alexander can get married-” Hercules and Lafayette contribute before John cuts back in.

“There’s hope for our ass after all!” In the midst of beer and laughter they sit themselves down, continuing to poke fun at the groom. With every round the waiter brings there is another beer to lower John’s inhibition. It just so happens that when Burr appears he’s on his last sense of hesitation.

“I came to say congratulations,” Burr pointedly looks away from Hercules and Lafayette, focusing only on Alexander. John’s the only one paying attention to his mug, so he takes a swig to finish off his own beer and proceeds to steal the rest of Lafayette’s.

“Spit a verse, Burr!” Mulligan baits. John drinks.

“I see the whole gang is here,” and Burr bites the hook. When John looks up from his quickly receding beer he’s inexplicably met with Burr’s calculating gaze.

Not a second later Lafayette says, “You are the _worst,_ Burr!” and suddenly his stare turns toward the other three men, leaving John confused, so he drinks. Alexander laughs. John drinks.

“Ignore them, congrats to you, Lieutenant Colonel!” Alexander’s sincerity is ruined by his following bitter statement. “I wish I had your command instead of manning George’s journal.”

“No you don’t,” Burr puts plainly, though the tension in his voice gives away that he is already regretting his venture to the post-bachelor party.

“Yes I do!”

“Now, be sensible,” Burr speaks. John goes for another drink only to to realize he’s already finished off his own as well as Lafayette’s, and at the same time notices how thick the fog in his mind has become. “From what I hear you’ve made yourself indispensable,” and in that moment, John’s brain reminds of sensitive information he has on Burr and his body refuses to allow it go unsaid.

“Well!” He shouts, stuttering for a moment on his next words. “Well, I heard you’ve got a special someone on the side, Burr!” Everyone turns to face Burr, who looks annoyed and even has something akin to a _flush_ on his cheeks.

“Is that so?” Alexander prompts.

“What are you tryin’a hide, Burr?” Laurens eggs the conversation, though the glare Burr sends his way is more than a little chilling.

“I should go,” he says coldly, turning toward the door only to stop as Alexander speaks.

“No, these guys should go!” The three go wide-eyed at the incredulous suggestion. _This is our last night!_ John wants to argue. _Even if it’s nothing more than our friendship, it’s still_ us! He knows he’s being ridiculous, but alcohol and dejection are spreading through him like a Hellish disease. Lafayette asks, “What?” and John huffs, “No!”

“Leave us alone,” Alexander requests. With dramatic sighs and Hercules muttering, “Man…” the three drunkenly saunter to the next room. The other two are already pressing John for questions about Burr’s romance. “God knows he needed one,” Lafayette jokes, him and Hercules laughing much too hard for such a simple joke. He brushes them off with, “I don’t know much about her,” then excuses himself to the Schuyler Mansion garden for “much needed fresh air”.

“We’ve already lost two friends!” Cries Hercules, and that’s all John hears before stepping - although hard enough to be considered stomping - onto the stones residing over green grass. Without thinking about the fact that he could be surrounded by others having the same need for “fresh air”, he sits onto a bench with his face in his hands, absolutely refusing to submit himself to tears. The too many emotions; too many thoughts are catching up to him. _So much for not playing the role of a jealous lover._

 _I just have to get through tonight,_  he reminds himself. _Then I’ll set my course back to Charleston._ Which weighs even heavier on his heart. _And once I find myself back in Charleston all I will be able to offer to Alexander - or_ any _friends - are written words that may not even make it to where I want._ As his internal groaning becomes louder, someone touches his shoulder, immediately putting him on offense. He jumps to his feet, hands retreating from his face and reaching toward his weapon, only to realize he _has_ no weapon and is at a _dinner party_. Her looks are inherently female, and he can tell if he had any inclination toward women, that she would be one to chase after. Instead, he stares wildly at an alarmed woman.

“Oh, Jesus, um-” John goes to apologize but she shushes him with a wave of her hand.

“We’re at a party full of soldiers,” she resolves. “I should have taken that fact into consideration,” and in that moment he realizes the woman he very nearly attacked is _Angelica Schuyler._

“I’m still very sorry,” he decides to say, though she just shrugs him off and sits on the bench, leaving enough room for John to follow suit. Hesitant, he sits as well, though as close to the edge as he can. He has no expectations that a girl like Angelica would escort him from the party, but he’s not giving her a chance in case she finds it in her to lower her standards. From the mistake that is his own marriage - no fault of Martha’s, truly - he decided he’d rather live alone and speculated by others than fall in bed with a woman.

After an uncomfortable silence, John finally breaks the ice. “Great wedding, huh?” His voice cracks just a bit on “huh”, but he can attribute that to far too many beers - although, with the night’s chilling air and Angelica’s spook, he is practically sober.

“Oh,” her eyes and voice downcast at once. “My sister is just- she’s so happy!” The moments of weakness she showed on-stage are no longer accompanied by joy.

“She looks it,” his mind aches at the thought of her smiling so sweetly as she was introduced. “So is Alexander,” his voice betrays nothing more than despondence. _If this is how well you guard a secret, I’m surprised you haven’t been hanged already!_ The harshness of his own words sets him into an easy-going manner. “He’s as happy as I’ve ever seen him,” she looks at him strangely, most likely noting his sudden change. In an attempt to save himself from whatever damage he’s already done he says, “I’m so happy for them!” but his false excitement falls flat, and he’s resigned to the probability of the eldest Schuyler knowing what anyone would call his, “shameful existence”.

“As am I,” she says curiously, seeming to tiptoe the line of question. “I’ve always and will always see Alexander as a dear friend,” she stops as though her sentence is over, then sighs and chokes out. “Even brother,” and realization slaps John across the face. _She loves him,_ he thinks. _She loves him just as I._

“My brother in arms,” he agrees, still privy to the fact that she most likely _knows._  “And my _best friend,"_  which is true, no matter the circumstance. Thick or thin, love or friendship; Alexander is not to be chucked aside.

From an outsider’s perspective, they would have assumed John and Angelica are lovingly gazing into one another’s eyes, but the reality is not so fairy-tale.

“I’ve never met a man who wants what I do,” Angelica finally says, which is immediately responded by John rushing to assure her that, _no_ , he does _not_ like men, but is stopped by a hand being placed on his knee. He jumps up, about to demand what the _Hell_ she thinks she’s doing when Angelica starts to laugh. “Please, make no attempt to lie. Any other man would’ve taken my hand, had they been given the chance. Not to mention you’ve pointedly sat as far from me as possible which is, and I say this with as little ego as possible, not normal for me,” John takes a moment to process exactly what is happening, Angelica patiently waiting in front of him. _She knows,_ he thinks over and over. The words flood his mind like the world washed away by the storm of God’s hand, Noah’s Ark safe in the distance. He knows for certain that he would not have had a place on that boat.

“I’m not normally this- this-”

“Obvious?” A nod from John. “Well, from the looks you gave me during the reception, I too must have been more open than intended,” they stay in silence for a moment, Angelica still sitting and John still standing, just as tense as before. “Please sit,” Angelica requests. “I promise there will be no advances. I would hate to corrupt,” the joke, though crude, makes John feel much better about his chances at not being put under a death penalty, and finds himself sitting next to a woman every other man in the world would be slobbering over.

“To your earlier statement,” he begins. “I myself have met _very_ few men who share my, ah, in lack of a better term: _taste,_ ” this attracts a laugh from Angelica. “Three, to be exact,” he plans to end his story at that, but Angelica stares at him with expectation. “Do you really want to- well, I suppose I shouldn’t refuse the request of a Schuyler sister. I would oblige to give a short and sweet answer, but you wish to know more if I’m correct.”

“Every detail,” she says, smirking at the heat John can feel in his face. A wave of her hand asks John to begin, so he does.

“Let me start by saying that I have _never_ felt a fondness for women. Although, at a young age I cared nothing for boys nor girls. Around twelve my father was already pushing me to meet rich families with ladies my own age, so he could prepare for my future,” Angelica’s intense gaze shone with understanding. “I mean, honestly, we’re fucking loaded anyway, why should-” he notices his error of crudeness and goes to apologize, but Angelica already has a hand up to stop him.

“I’m a lady, Mr. Laurens, but I’m not a fucking child,” Angelica grins at his gobsmacked expression, then urges him to continue.

“Okay,” John begins once again, still slightly thrown. “At fourteen, I suppose, I started to see the appeal of romance and sex. Just not in the way society expected me to,” a tired sigh escapes him. “I was already catching intrigue from my father, he would say, “Jack, I commend your studies, but a young man shouldn’t be limited from relationships by his thirst for knowledge!”, but I just delved myself further - studying, reading, and writing day-in and day-out. Then, around the time of my fifteenth birthday, we moved to London. I began schooling in Geneva, which led to my first act of sodomy. Met a student like myself, shared a few opinions, and suddenly we weren’t just quietly murmuring in the dark about who we were, but were acting it out. He soon left and just barely got out before my heart was to follow,” he can hear the _what if'_ s whispering in his mind, but quickly shuts them up to face Angelica. “Do you wish for me to stop?” He asks, assuming her disgusted by the remorseful look on her face.

“No, you misunderstand me,” she says quickly. “I don’t feel for your shame, I feel for your _loss_ ,” and the sincerity shocks John. _She’s taking it better than I did,_  he thinks. She encourages him to continue so he does.

“The second man was nothing but an act of alcohol blurring the better parts of my mind. We fell into bed, he left before I woke up, and I was happy not having to face my scandal,” a longer, still tired huff escapes him. “And last, but certainly not least, we have our man of the hour. He stole my heart quickly - _far_ too quickly. And even-so, by the short time it took me to realize my own feelings, Alexander had already, unknowingly to me, thrown his heart on the table for me to either crush or nurture,” all of John’s surprise tonight had nothing on the stunned gaze Angelica shows.

“You- you two were actually-” the eldest Schuyler being left dumbstruck was not a sight he ever expected to see.

“Yes,” he puts flatly, then comes to the realization that he has not only thrown himself at the mercy of Angelica Schuyler, but has done the same to Alexander. “Oh, God, please don’t- please don’t let what I’ve said cloud your judgement to Alexander. No matter what, he’s still a good man and _loves_ your sister and-” Angelica raises her hand once more to signal he shut his mouth.

“We both feel what we feel, and we both could’ve had what we don’t,” she chokes on the last word. For the next few moments - though ten years would have been a proper measurement, in John’s eyes - they do nothing but stare at each other, the look only broken as the door to their right swings open with a slam that John would put money on being the dramatics of Alexander.

“Laurens!” His bet was placed correctly. “I leave you for one minute and you’re already flirting with my sister-in-law,” the maid of honor and best man look to each other, knowing the shared heartbreak. Once they turn back toward Alexander, he’s in the midst of a failing attempt to cross the garden drunk off his ass.

“What can I say?” John replies, tone teasing even if his eyes say otherwise. “Couple-a drinks in me and even I can be reliable with the ladies,” Alexander’s attempts grow futile, so he takes to standing against a tree, close enough where they needn’t shout but can‘t see each others faces.

“I’ve finally found a man with more passion in his heart and fire in his eyes than you,” Angelica states.

“And I, a woman with more wit in one sentence than a thousand lines from you,” John continues. With a laugh, Alexander turns back to the mansion.

“Well, please don’t allow me to stop your courtship. Once the two of you are satisfied,” Angelica squeezes her hand into a fist. “Laurens, join me for drinks. Angelica, I believe my wife is looking for you,” Alexander turns around for just a moment and unnecessarily bows to them, nearly tripping over his feet, leaving the two still standing in the cool air.

“He’s an idiot,” Angelica observes, earning a snort from John.

“One of the dumbest I’ve ever known,” he concurs. A beat. “Yet we are the fools who made the unbearable mistake of falling in love with him,” Angelica laughs.

“Maybe one day the two of us could be satisfied in a life without his tender affection,” after a moment of silence she adds. “Nor his tender touch,” John, still silently surprised by her lack of customs, disagrees and they share a bitter laugh. They stand for yet another moment before John suggests they take leave.

“I should be getting blackout drunk with my friends,” he explains.

“And I should be off to see what my sister wants of me,” she agrees. They go their separate ways, but before Angelica is out of earshot John turns and suggests:

“Next time we fall for the same man? Let’s not introduce him to Peggy.”


	2. Angelica Schuyler

On the left, Angelica Schuyler sits with her sister, listening to the tipsy anecdotes Eliza tells about herself and her new - _and improved by my sister’s influenced,_ Angelica can’t help but think - husband; Alexander Hamilton.

“I mean, Angie, he’s so sweet! I’ve never- I’ve never had someone write so many _amazing_ things! For me, I mean,” and though there is no joke, Eliza’s alcohol tolerance catches up with her, putting her in the stage of _hahah, everything in the world is hilarious!_ Angelica wishes her own tolerance were that low, just for tonight.

In the minutes Angelica spends laughing along to Eliza’s unintelligible stories, an older woman arrives. “Oh, my gosh, Martha!” Eliza turns away to greet who Angelica assumes is Martha Washington. “I didn’t think you’d make it! I’m not exactly in a decent form at the moment,” she giggles into her glass and takes another sip as if to make her point, although she certainly doesn’t need to. Martha laughs with her and they begin to exchange pleasantries, giving Angelica the escape she needs and finds herself in the garden.

With all that she feels - frustration, guilt, melancholy - it surprises her that she has barely shed a tear; only single moments in her speech as the maid of honor, which were easily played off as her sisterly sentiment. Only one person in the crowd _seemed_ to see there was a darker interior, and even then the man - introduced to her as John Laurens - made no attempt to ask about her moments of weakness, so she has high hopes he saw the nothing everyone else did. Although, Laurens himself seemed a bit more emotional than the best man at any other wedding she’s been to.

No matter what she thinks of tonight, all of it brings her back to her and Alexander’s first meeting. The way she felt by just _looking_ at him, to the crude opening that should have put her off but intrigued her further, all the way up to the look on her sisters face that screamed “ _Helpless!”_. Even now, just staring at the flowers, she sees his hesitance on answering his heritage. She is quickly taken from her heart-broken stupor by the door on her right shutting, though not loud it isn’t quiet either, and a young man practically stomps across the stone toward the closest bench. He takes a seat, hands immediately covering the entirety of his face. Curious, she cautiously makes her way toward the man, who seems to be silently sobbing.

In reckless thought, she touches his shoulder, and moves back quickly as the man removes his hands from his face to grab at his hips - _most likely for a weapon,_  Angelica thinks - and half a beat later seems to realize that his only adversary is a weaponless woman at a dinner party. His stare is wild - the sobs had put no tears in his eyes - keeping Angelica mildly alarmed.

“Oh, Jesus, um-” in that moment she realizes that this is not a random party-goer but is Alexander’s best man; John Laurens. He rushes to apologize, but she waves off the advance.

“We’re at a party full of soldiers,” she resolves. “I should have taken that fact into consideration,” and by the way Laurens’ eyes suddenly widen, he has come to the realization of who Angelica is.

“I’m still very sorry,” his apology is lame, most likely still reeling on the encounter, so she shrugs his words away and sits on the bench he previously occupied, though giving him plenty of space to sit beside her. She notes the hesitance, and notes even further the purposeful way he sits as far away as he can. There is no doubt to his handsome aesthetics, and by his last name there is no doubt to his monetary worth, but she is in no mood to captivate a man with a glance. It’s refreshing - though, in terms of her pride, insulting - to have this man keep himself as far as possible, at least for tonight. There is an uncomfortable silence before Laurens asks what Angelica least wants to be questioned for.

“Great wedding, huh?” She hears his voice crack at the end, but thinks little of it by the way she’d seen them tumble over each other for the free alcohol.

“Oh,” and against her will, her eyes and voice downcast in unison. “My sister is just- she’s so happy!” The falsified joy she has sung throughout the night seems to crack.

“She looks it,” he replies. “So is Alexander,” and the despondence in his voice has Angelica’s curiosity piqued. Just barely a moment later he changes his stature and tone to seem easy-going. “He’s as happy as I’ve ever seen him,” she doesn’t buy his false apathy, and he seems to notice, retaliating with, “I’m so happy for them!” But even he winces at his own lackluster. _Perhaps he feels for Eliza,_  she ponders.

“As am I,” she tiptoes over her question, not wanting to squash any possible knowledge she could gain with curious demands. “I’ve always and will always see Alexander as a dear friend,” she pauses a moment, deciding whether or not to end the sentence there before forcing out, “Even brother,” and if Laurens’ face is anything to go by, her conviction is lacking.

“My brother in arms,” he says, like they’re in agreement. “And my _best friend,"_  and those words send every thought of _he feels for my sister_ away to be replaced by _he feels for my sister’s groom._

From an outsider’s perspective, they would have assumed Laurens and Angelica are lovingly gazing into one another’s eyes, but the reality is not so fairy-tale.

“I’ve never met a man who wants what I do,” she handles the words delicately. There is no doubt in her mind that this man is what her father would have claimed as an “abomination to God”, but in this moment she cares nothing for morals nor religion. Laurens is immediately rushing to assure her that she is mistaken in her assumptions, so as a test she lays her hand across his knee. He jumps off of his seat, looking ready to demand what the _Hell_ she thinks she’s doing and stops him with a laugh. “Please, make no attempt to lie. Any other man would’ve taken my hand, had they been given the chance. Not to mention you’ve pointedly sat as far from me as possible which is, and I say this with as little ego as possible, not normal for me,” Angelica waits patiently for his stunned silence to be broken.

“I’m not normally this- this-”

“Obvious?” A nod from Laurens. “Well, from the looks you gave me during the reception, I too must have been more open than intended,” they stay in silence for a moment, Angelica still sitting and Laurens still standing, just as tense as before. “Please sit,” Angelica requests, having enough of this silence and wanting answers. “I promise there will be no advances. I would hate to corrupt,” though she knows the joke is crude, Laurens gives a smile that shows he’s in no way offended and takes a still-hesitant seat next to her, a place any other man would be racing to grab.

“To your earlier statement,” he begins. “I myself have met _very_ few men who share my, ah, in lack of a better term: _taste,"_  this attracts a laugh from Angelica. It comes as a surprise to her that she is in no way disgusted by what she had been hardwired to believe as sin. “Three, to be exact,” this has her intrigue piqued even worse than before. He clearly intended for that to be the end of the discussion, but she wants to know as much as he is willing to give. “Do you really want to- well, I suppose I shouldn’t refuse the request of a Schuyler sister. I would oblige to give a short and sweet answer, but you wish to know more if I’m correct.”

“Every detail,” and she smirks, delighted by the pink in his face. A wave of the hand to signal he should begin, so he does.

“Let me start by saying that I have _never_ felt a fondness for women. Although, at a young age I cared nothing for boys nor girls. Around twelve my father was already pushing me to meet rich families with ladies my own age, so he could prepare for my future,” Angelica hopes the understanding she feels is shown on her face. “I mean, honestly, we’re fucking loaded anyway, why should-” he notices his error of crudeness and goes to apologize, but Angelica already has a hand up to stop him.

“I’m a lady, Mr. Laurens, but I’m not a fucking child,” his surprise delights and aggravates her. Nobody expects a _woman_ to have anything but basic intelligence and child-bearing hips, but Angelica hasn’t a care in the world for expectations. She accepts that she has to marry rich, she accepts that she must be the noble of her sisters, but she sure as _Hell_ will make sure that when people hear the name “Angelica Schuyler” they know she is a match for any man.

“Okay,” Laurens begins again, obviously thrown. “At fourteen, I suppose, I started to see the appeal of romance and sex. Just not in the way society expected me to,” a tired sigh escapes him. “I was already catching intrigue from my father. He would say, “Jack, I commend your studies, but a young man shouldn’t be limited from relationships by his thirst for knowledge!”, but I just delved myself further - studying, reading, and writing day-in and day-out. Then, around the time of my fifteenth birthday, we moved to London. I began schooling in Geneva, which led to my first act of sodomy. Met a student like myself, shared a few opinions, and suddenly we weren’t just quietly murmuring in the dark about who we were, but were acting it out. He soon left and just barely got out before my heart was to follow,” a wistful look shows upon his face and Angelica cannot help but feel sympathy. “Do you wish for me to stop?” Her remorse has obviously been misplaced as disgust in his mind.

“No, you misunderstand me,” she says quickly, hoping he will continue. “I don’t feel for your shame, I feel for your _loss,_ ” and her own sincerity is a shock. _I should be reporting him,_ she reminds herself, once again. _There is no proof, and he would not be put upon penalty, but with my status his reputation would be absolutely_ destroyed. Though there she sits, encouraging him to continue further, so he does.

“The second man was nothing but an act of alcohol blurring the better parts of my mind. We fell into bed, he left before I woke up, and I was happy not having to face my scandal,” a longer, still tired huff escapes him. “And last, but certainly not least, we have our man of the hour. He stole my heart quickly - _far_ too quickly. And even-so, by the short time it took me to realize my own feelings, Alexander had already, unknowingly to me, thrown his heart on the table for me to either crush or nurture,” Angelica is left stunned. She knows Laurens' feelings for Alexander, they are _obvious_ , even if not said outright, but she hadn’t thought they were returned.

“You- you two were actually-” Angelica can’t even properly articulate a sentence, the shock still coursing through her mind.

“Yes,” he puts flatly. _My sister’s husband is a sodomite,_ her disbelief grows every second. Then, he seems to realize he has not only put himself at the mercy of Angelica, but has done the same to Alexander. “Oh, God, please don’t- please don’t let what I’ve said cloud your judgement to Alexander. No matter what, he’s still a good man and _loves_ your sister and-” Angelica forces herself to calm, knowing that while Alexander has committed treason, Laurens’ words are the truth. With a raise of her hand, he shuts his mouth.

“We both feel what we feel, and we both could’ve had what we don’t,” she chokes on the last word. For the next few moments - though it feels like ten years to Angelica’s mind - they do nothing but stare at each other, the look only broken as the door to their right swings open with a slam. Startled, she looks to the figure and can make out his shape well enough to know it’s Alexander.

“Laurens!” He shouts. “I leave you for one minute and you’re already flirting with my sister-in-law,” the maid of honor and best man look to each other, knowing the shared heartbreak. Once they turn back toward Alexander, he’s in the midst of a failing attempt to cross the garden drunk off his ass.

“What can I say?” Laurens replies, tone teasing even if Angelica knows his eyes say otherwise. “Couple-a drinks in me and even I can be reliable with the ladies,” Alexander’s attempts grow futile, so he takes to standing against a tree, close enough where they needn’t shout but can‘t see each others faces.

“I’ve finally found a man with more passion in his heart and fire in his eyes than you,” Angelica states.

“And I, a woman with more wit in one sentence than a thousand lines from you,” Laurens continues. With a laugh, Alexander turns back to the mansion.

“Well, please don’t allow me to stop your courtship. Once the two of you are satisfied,” Angelica squeezes her hand into a fist. _I will never be satisfied._ “Laurens, join me for drinks. Angelica, I believe my wife is looking for you,” she realizes she must have been in the garden with Laurens for at least twenty minutes. Alexander turns around for just a moment and unnecessarily bows to them, nearly tripping over his feet, leaving the two still standing in the cool air.

“He’s an idiot,” Angelica observes, earning a snort from Laurens.

“One of the dumbest I’ve ever known,” he concurs. A beat. “Yet we are the fools who made the unbearable mistake of falling in love with him,” Angelica laughs, perhaps not completely understanding the pain, but close enough.

“Maybe one day the two of us could be satisfied in a life without his tender affection,” after a moment of silence she adds. “Nor his tender touch,” the vulgarness of her words keeps Laurens silently surprised for just a moment before he disagrees. With a shared bitter laugh, they stand for yet another moment before Laurens suggests they take leave.

“I should be getting blackout drunk with my friends,” he explains.

“And I should be off to see what my sister wants of me,” she agrees. They go their separate ways, but before Angelica is out of earshot she hears Laurens suggest:

“Next time we fall for the same man? Let’s not introduce him to Peggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be Angelica and John alternating paragraphs, but realized that this way is much cleaner and has them able to react to the same situations.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first Hamilton fic I ever came up with. I wouldn't write more than a couple of lines I wanted them to say for a while because I thought, "No! They're real people, I can't!" Then realized that the musical is a fic and let myself fall into the depths of Hamilton fanfiction.


End file.
